CHAPTER TWO


She was almost unresponsive. The only movement came from her eyes, shifting constantly to take in her surroundings. She was strapped down, unable to come out of the box, but it didn't seem to bother her.

"Is she alright?" The doctor didn't know or was too afraid to answer him.

Had they hurt her? Had he been so preoccupied with getting her back that he'd made a mistake? He remembered when he'd left the ice the last time, someone from Hydra had been there to get him through the first stages, recoding his brain so the Soldier was the only voice inside. There should be a way to initialize her.

"Her body is working fine, but her mind might be in a state of shock. I don't imagine being thawed is very usual, "it was for them, but she didn't have to know that" so maybe she just needs some time. Getting her out of there would be a good start".

He unstrapped her slowly, so as not to startle her. She wasn't moving, so he helped her out of the box and sat her in the chair the doctor had vacated.

"What's her name?" The doctor was standing beside him, arms crossed against her chest. "Maybe that would make her respond."

He was ashamed to admit that he didn't remember it. "I'm not sure," he muttered.

"Isn't she your friend?"

"I haven't seen her in a long time… she doesn't look like she remembers me."

"Give me the notebook," he sent her a hesitant look "I'm not going to hurt her, just want to see if it says something useful."

He gave it to her. "Don't try anything."

He hoped the notebook had an answer, because he sure as hell didn't. I should've tried harder, gotten more information, what if I can't help her? He'd wanted to find her and get her free, no one deserved to be a slave to Hydra, but maybe she was better off in the ice, not knowing anything else. No. She deserves to be free.

"I think these words might make her respond." The doctor was pointing at a list of ten words, written in Russian.

NO. NO. NOT THE WORDS. His mind rebelled against the idea of using them, he didn't know why, but the list gave him a bad feeling. If Hydra had used them, they couldn't be good, he wouldn't do that her.

"Don't use the words."

"What do you propose instead, then?"

"Leave." If the doctor couldn't help them any longer, then there wasn't a point in her being there. "Don't speak a word of this."

"I can't leave in good conscience while she's like this."

"LEAVE!" His shout scared her enough to send her running as fast as her old joints could handle. There was no doubt that she wouldn't say a word about them.

The notebook had fallen to the ground in front of him. Maybe reading it would give him more information, another option, so he didn't need to use the words. She was exactly where he'd left her, sitting without moving a muscle, unblinking eyes staring at nothing. They had to leave, she wouldn't be able to defend herself in that state and, if enough people came, his strength could only stop them for a short time.

"Come on, we're leaving."

He caught her hand in his right one and tugged, she got up without complaint, although he would've preferred if she said something, an objection was better than nothing. He dragged her around the room, putting every paper and useful thing in his backpack, after checking that he hadn't left any clue about her in that place, they went to the outer door. The bodies of the Hydra operatives were in the same place, he would have to come back and get rid of them as quickly as possible.

Just before leaving, he realized that her look wouldn't blend anywhere, much less in the side of Boston they were on. He clothed her in a black hoodie he'd kept in his backpack, putting a black beanie and sunglasses on her. If they crossed someone, they might wonder why she was wearing sunglasses at that time of night, but they would probably assume that she was drunk. He put on his own cap and fastened his jacket, keeping the gun in his left pocket.

They'd been walking for a while when she suddenly stopped. She was staring intently at the storefront of an art shop, where beautiful paintings were displayed.

"Do you… do you like art?" She gave a small nod, almost imperceptible. "I will get you some supplies, but we have to keep walking."

He practically dragged her from the shop, keeping up their brisk pace until they got to his building. He'd been staying in the dilapidated building for five days, there was no electricity, but the running water was working and he'd been able to shower, although the cold water hadn't been very nice in the freezing Boston winter.

After eight flights of stairs, they entered his flat, completely empty except for an ancient sofa bed and his duffel bag. He led her to the bed, prompting her to sit down. He let out a groan, dragging a hand down his face, what was he going to do with her? He decided to make her comfortable, taking off the glasses and her military boots. Her feet were freezing, so he put a pair of thick socks on them.

Food. Food makes everything better. He searched through his duffel, but the only edible thing was a box of chocolate cookies. A few months ago, he'd discovered he had a sweet tooth, so he endeavored to eat as much as possible to make up for the lost time. He took one for himself and another one for her, putting it in her hand. Her reaction was instant this time: she sniffed the cookie and, after a few second, took a small bite. A small moan of appreciation left her mouth before she could stop it, that was the first bite of food she'd had in a long, long time. He kept giving her cookies until the box was empty.

He sat on the ground in front of her and, for the first time since he'd gotten her out of the ice, took a long look at her. She looked like the picture, not the one from the exhibit, that one he still didn't understand, but the one in his pocket, which he'd kept always close. Her strawberry blonde hair was in a long braid down her back, some tendrils had escaped and grazed her face. Her skin was lighter than he remembered, freckles dotting her nose and cheeks, but that could be caused by her time out of the sun. She was on the skinny side, but still had some strength in her body. Her eyes looked the exact same as in his dreams, a pale greenish blue in the center, a ring of a deeper blue surrounding it. Her full lips were slightly open, dark crumbs on them. He wiped them with his thumb even before realizing what he was doing.

"Sorry." His whisper broke the silence in the flat. "Do you remember me?" At her blank look, he tried in Russian.

"Soldat."

Her voice was rough from disuse, but the word gave him chills. She remembered the Soldier. He could help her remember more.

"What about your name, do you remember it?" Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he hoped she did.

"Морриган." Morrigan.

No, that wasn't the name he wanted. It was good to know that she knew something about themselves, only he needed more.

"No, not that name. Your real name." He placed his right hand on his chest "James." Then he took her hand and placed it on her chest.

It was the first time he had referred to himself as James. It didn't seem right to take Bucky's name, but he wasn't the Soldier anymore, and she would need something to call him. James was the more neutral option, he still didn't recognize himself as anything resembling that man, but he was light years away from being Bucky. Who knew if he'd ever be Bucky again.

"S-, Ssss-…"

He stopped her, seeing she was getting agitated. "Don't worry, it will come to you in time." Maybe he would remember her name before she did. "You should rest, we're leaving in the morning."

He didn't know why he felt so awkward. She was with him, he'd completed his mission. Only she wasn't really there, just her body. He needed her mind, needed her to get better. Maybe then he could allow himself to relax a bit, give his mind some time to recover.

She sat with her back against the wall, hugging her bent knees, head lying in her arms. The position made her look innocent, but he knew that if she wanted to, she could kill him before he knew what hit him. Surprisingly, the thought didn't worry him as much as he'd expected. The Soldier didn't feel intimidated by her, and even though that was probably one of her strong points as an assassin, he felt some trust towards her.


When she fell asleep, he went to take care of the bodies he'd left behind. The walk to the building should be shorter now that he was alone, and he could be there and back in ten minutes tops, not enough time for her to leave. Some shops were open, 24h stores that seemed to be very common in the big cities he'd visited. They were very useful for him, enough cheap food and not too much security, the staff wasn't overly worried about the people that walked into the store, also a plus for him. He decided to get some more cookies, she had liked them and, even if they weren't the most nutritious food, they would have to do until he discovered what she liked to eat. After buying two cups of coffee, he would need the caffeine in order to spend another day without sleeping, he continued on his path towards the Hydra base.

As he walked into the building, he realized he didn't know what to do with the bodies. That part of a mission had never been his problem. He leaned out of the door, there wasn't a soul on the street, perhaps he could drag them to the opposite building, where he'd been scouting from.

After getting rid of them, he swept the building, making sure he hadn't missed anything the last time. He couldn't allow Hydra or Steve Rogers to follow his steps, much less now that he had someone in his care.

The sun was starting to rise when he entered his building. Would she still be there? He didn't think she would leave, but if her mind was anything like his had been at the start of his freedom, there was no way to predict her actions. God, I hope she hasn't left. He was nervous, it'd taken him a while to identify the feeling, but he did. How long had it been since he'd been nervous about something? The Soldier had nerves of steel and he didn't really know if Bucky was one to get nervous around dames.

She looked up when he closed the door, even though he'd tried to be silent. She looked alert, not like she'd been sleeping five seconds ago. Her senses might be better than mine, she must have heard me when I was coming up.

"I brought you some coffee," he gave her the cup, it wasn't as hot as when he'd gotten it, but it would be nice enough to warm them "and more cookies."

She took the box eagerly, putting it behind her back so he couldn't touch them, and then took the cup of coffee, smelling it like she'd done with the cookies the first time.

"I hope you like it." He rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand, the feeling of nervousness wouldn't go away and it was making him antsy.

She drank a big gulp, but seconds later every drop of coffee in her mouth was dripping all over his face. She had spit the coffee and was coughing hard, trying to rid herself of that awful taste. Her face turned from disgusted to horrified when she saw what she'd done. She turned and ran towards the corner of the room, making herself as small as possible.

"Shit. No, don't run. Nothing's wrong." He dried his face with the sleeve of his jacket. "Come here, please, I'm not going to hurt you. See? I'm not angry." His cheeks hurt from trying to stop the laugh that wanted to come out.

"I'm sorry, James." She said his name slowly, as if she was tasting the way it sounded in her mouth.

She remembers me. He couldn't contain his smile. She'd talked, said his name.

"Don't worry, doll." The endearment rolled off his tongue, but the term wasn't one he was familiar with.

He led her to the bed and sat down beside her, giving her enough space, he didn't want her to feel crowded or uncomfortable with him. She turned towards him, taking his metal hand between hers. He was frozen, afraid that any small movement in his prosthetic arm could hurt her, it didn't matter if she was a super soldier, his arm was too strong. Not seeing his discomfort, she put his hand above her heart, keeping it there with her own hands.

"Saoirse." She said her name in a small whisper, as if she wasn't really sure that it was right.

"Saoirse?" She nodded, a tiny smile gracing her face.

She touched his chest with her free hand, saying his name, "James," then she squeezed his metal hand, still resting above her heart, "Saoirse."

He couldn't believe it. Just in a few hours she had remembered more than he had in weeks. He probably wouldn't have known his name if it wasn't for the Captain America exhibit he'd visited. Was that because she hadn't been reprogrammed after waking up from the ice? Or was she simply stronger and better than him? He'd remembered some of their missions together and she'd never had any difficulty keeping up with him, in any case, it had been him the one to struggle to keep up, she'd been faster than him. Maybe, if her body was faster, her brain would be faster too. She will get better soon.

Saoirse held out one of the cookies to him, prompting him to eat. "Eat. It's good". She wanted to share something she liked with him. He followed her lead, eating the cookies and drinking his coffee.

They had a long road ahead of them, but sitting together on that shitty bed, eating cookies, it didn't look as dark and lonely as it had before.


A/N:Enjoy!